


Like The Fantastic Four

by Bouzingo



Category: Marvel
Genre: Asexual Steve Rogers, Barbershop Quartet, Deaf Clint Barton, Multi, Natasha Feels, Natasha is weird about food, Non-Verbal Bucky Barnes, OT4, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Sam and Clint could be bros, Shower sex b/w Sam and Natasha, teaming up with clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 02:17:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3101618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bouzingo/pseuds/Bouzingo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha is still adjusting to having no secrets. Clint comes over to her place for support, and ends up staying to run a mission with her and her boyfriends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like The Fantastic Four

Natasha is a picky eater. She doesn’t like dressing on her greens, or sauces of any kind, and needs her red meat bloody. Even medium rare is too cooked for her. She likes fruit raw and never cooked, not even in pastry and especially not jam. She eats white toasted bread with butter, never margarine or Nutella or by itself.

Sam, who’d been raised to try everything once from the moment his parents decided he was suitable to eat in a restaurant, doesn’t really get it. Out of his darlings, Natasha is the hardest to cook for. Bucky eats anything set before him, and Steve will eat most anything as well, though he needs a mess’s portion before he’s full.

“I don’t mean to be difficult,” Natasha says while Sam cooks rosti plain for her, with a poached egg and a plain green salad on the side. Sam is having his rosti with homemade applesauce on the side and vinaigrette on the salad, and Natasha’s plate just looks kind of bare.

“Not difficult. Challenging,” Sam says, and bops her nose. “You know what you like, and you’re sticking to it. That’s totally fair. But you should at least try the applesauce.”

He spoonfeeds her a tiny bit of applesauce, which she considers with a furrowed brow.

“Do you like it?” he says.

“It’s nice,” she says, “because you made it. The normal stuff doesn’t keep the skin on.”

“You like the skin?” Sam asks.

“I like the fruit,” Natasha says, and they sit at the table together, eating in companionable silence. They’ve been spending more and more time alone since the supersoldiers in their life started super-heroing in earnest, and since Natasha started withdrawing.

Natasha has simultaneously the most and the least secrets of anybody that Sam knows. Secrets were her currency, and until very recently she was the richest woman in the world. Then she spent all of it at once in exchange for a free world.

Now everybody knows her face. Everybody knows where her safehouses are. Everybody knows about the fire at the hospital, the Red Room, the people she slept with for leverage. Her face still graces magazine and newspaper covers and she’s a favourite topic for news shows and talk shows alike. Natasha hates it.

The moment she was recognized on the street was the moment she went back to their house, drew all the curtains and went to her room. Sam followed her in, held her through a panic attack she didn’t recognize and couldn’t contain. She came out to comforting touches from Steve and Bucky, kettle of tea already whistling.

The next week was hard for all four of them. Nobody wanted to leave Natasha alone, but she wanted nothing more. Her dreams became worse, and she spent a few nights curled into Steve and shaking because she didn’t want to cry.

Even now, when she hasn’t left the house except to go on runs with Sam or Steve, she’s nervous and anxious. Sam wants to wrap her up in a hug and never let go, but only bakes for her instead, watches her high school movies with her. She loves _Clueless_ and any movies like it with an ungodly passion.

“Have you read my files?” she asks timidly while they’re curled up around each other and paying half-attention to _Sixteen Candles_.

“I figure if you wanted me to know something, you’d tell me,” Sam says truthfully. He’s never had the temptation to check her Wikipedia page, which is apparently novel-length by now, and tries to avoid the information flung at him whenever he tries catching up with the news.

“But you’ve seen… bits and pieces. Not because you want to. They talk about me a lot,” Natasha murmurs. Sam nods.

“I can’t even imagine what this all must be like,” he says, the simple sentiment surprisingly hard to get out.

“It was worth it, right?” Natasha says doubtfully. “That there’s just one truth now?”

“There’s always just been one truth,” Sam says firmly. “My dad told me when there’s a singular river, it doesn’t matter how many rocks break the flow of the water.”

“And all rivers empty into the ocean,” Natasha murmurs.

“Eventually,” Sam says. “What you did is probably the bravest thing I’ve ever heard of, Natasha. And you did it without a moment’s hesitation. No matter what anyone says about you now, that doesn’t change.”

Natasha looks so grateful, and opens her mouth to say something, just as the doorbell rings. Sam opens the door to Clint Barton, who has like five bandages on his face and has brought an overnight bag.

“Hi, one of Natasha’s boyfriends,” he says, holding up a hand in greeting. “I’m Hawkeye, her guyfriend.”

“I know who you are,” Sam says. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m Natasha’s guyfriend,” Clint says defensively. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“I live here,” Sam says, crossing his arms. “I pay for the whole damn house.”

“Don’t mind him, beloved,” Natasha says from the living room. “He is lonely and can’t talk to new people. Clint, did you bring what I asked?”

“Yeah. Russian takeout, chips, popcorn and so much chocolate… I wasn’t sure how much was ‘so much’ but I went for broke,” Clint says. “Should I just leave it at the door or can I come in?”

“You seem pretty harmless,” Sam says. “I’m Sam.”

“I’m Clint,” he says. “And I also brought beer.”

Sam decides he likes Hawkeye. It’s impossible to dislike a guy that brings a huge takeout box of pierogi and actual good beer to his best friend’s boyfriend’s house without any questions, and then makes himself at home.

They’re midway through _Heathers_ , a movie Clint has clearly sat through with Natasha more often than Sam, when Steve comes in, setting his shield down at the wall with their shoes. Natasha is conked out on Clint, who’s barely keeping his eyes open.

“Hey,” he says, padding into the living room and kissing Sam on the temple. “What’s Barton doing here?”

“Nat invited him. He brought food,” Sam says. “Where’s Bucky?”

“Surveillance,” Steve says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. Old habits can die hard with Bucky and some nights he stays up to watch the skyline and make sure the people he cares about are safe. “Room on the couch?”

“Aw yeah, Captain America cuddle pile,” Clint mumbles, shifts so Steve can wedge in between him and Sam. “Man, this rocks.”

“Don’t ruin it, Barton,” Sam says.

\-- 

It used to be that Natasha would run languidly, like she didn’t have anyone following her. Now, maybe she doesn’t notice, but she runs like she’s being chased. Sam can keep up with her either way but it’s different now.

“Hey darling,” he says after they get back to the house. Natasha has pulled off her shoes, throws them at the corner. Sunlight is just starting to break in the kitchen, and she puts on some water for coffee.

“Yeah,” she says, turning around. Sweat has plastered her hair to her neck and she’s beautiful.

“I’m going to VA today,” Sam says. “I thought you might come with me.”

Natasha’s shoulders slump, and she goes to the cupboard for coffee 

“Sorry, Sam,” she says. “I’m not ready for that.”

She continues making coffee, when the phone rings. She freezes, but Sam gets the phone.

“Sam Wilson,” he says, and hangs up almost immediately. “Seven in the morning. It’s a new record.”

“What did they want this time?” Natasha asks.

“Didn’t wait long enough to find out,” Sam says with a smile. “I think there’re cookies to go with coffee.”

Bucky joins them soon after, looking tired and signing that nobody should be up and energetic so early before he turns to the cupboard and gets _his_ cup, a nice red and white checkered ceramic mug Sam got him early in this relationship. Natasha pours him coffee when it’s ready, and he slumps at the table, head resting on Sam’s shoulder.

Natasha, after finding the cookies, sits down with them. She’s smiling at both of them, and some of the tension that’s been weighting her shoulders is gone now. After her coffee, she sets her mug in the sink, and says over her shoulder, real casually so that Sam almost misses it;

“I’m going to take a shower. Both of you are welcome to join me.”

Bucky smirks at Sam, who follows Natasha after a moment of thanking every deity that he can think of for his amazing sex life that came out of fucking nowhere.

Natasha is already naked when Sam joins her in the bathroom. She has scars and freckles, part of a beautiful topography Sam has traced so many times before. One of his favourite parts of flying is seeing a landscape nobody sees unfettered by a plane’s cabin, and looking at Natasha, and Steve, and Bucky this way feels just the same.

She turns on the water in the shower while Sam undresses, smiles when he presses her against the wall and kisses her. The first time she kissed him he was surprised, he thought she’d kiss harder. But she likes kitten licks and touching his face.

His kisses dip lower, until he’s at the scar by her hipbone (the one Bucky kisses every time they’re together, a quiet apology for something he did so long ago). Her fingers press against his scalp, pushing him down and drawing him close. Her breaths get deeper, not quite drowned out by the sound of the water.

“This good?” he asks, looking up. She nods and he pushes her legs apart.

Natasha sinks onto his mouth with a rare moan, and he presses a hand against her hip, nose buried in thick red curls. She tastes sweet and rich and there’s nothing like it in the world. He keeps at it, until her thighs are trembling on either side of his head.

“Feels good,” she says breathlessly, bucking up into his mouth. He brings his hand down and rubs against her clit. The water’s running a little colder now and Sam’s knees hurt from kneeling but the way she collapses against him, one hand scrabbling against the wall and the other one clamping on his shoulder, is worth it.

Natasha sits down with him, the shower still running, and grins at him in that satisfied little way that goes right to Sam’s head.

“Hey, if you guys are done,” Steve says coming into the bathroom, and obviously not for the first time, judging by the pink dusting his cheeks. “I was going to shave. Um.”

“Sorry Steve,” Sam says. “We’ll move it somewhere else.”

Steve smiles and waves a hand in their direction.

“You kids have fun,” he says, pulling out his straight razor and shaving cream.

They relocate to the bedroom and look at each other, then dissolve into giggles.

“No?” Sam says.

“No,” Natasha agrees. “God, I feel bad.”

“Nothing he hasn’t seen before,” Sam says. He, Natasha and Bucky have screwed on every surface of this house and Steve, bless him, doesn’t have much of a sense of discretion. “We should get dressed.”

Natasha rolls out of bed, finds a pair of bottle green shorts and a dark red crop top that Sam doesn’t think he’s seen before until he gives it a good look.

“That’s Bucky’s,” he says.

“No,” Natasha says. “It’s mine. Bucky just stole it because he rocks it. Just like that skirt he likes and my purple lipstick.”

“Mooch,” Sam laughs, and rolls out of the bed to get dressed as well. Then they join Bucky in the kitchen. Bucky hasn’t moved from his coffee pot and still looks half-dead. Barton is sitting opposite him with his own cup of coffee, having spent the night on their sofa. Natasha plants a kiss on the top of Bucky’s head and sits down beside him.

“Good morning,” Clint says. “Your weird sniper boyfriend said I could stay for breakfast.”

“Well, the more the merrier,” Sam says. “Do you like French toast?”

“I will eat literally anything you give me,” Clint says seriously.

“Not a picky eater then,” Sam says with a grin. Not like Natasha, who doesn’t like French toast and is already pouring herself a bowl of Lucky Charms. Steve joins them soon, freshened up and stealing French toast straight from the pan.

“Super-soldiers,” Sam grumbles affectionately. “Being cute and eating all my food.”

Eventually he makes enough French toast for everyone who wants some, and sits close to Steve, who’s warm in his Cosby sweater and smells good. Clint and Bucky are having a spirited conversation in sign language that Sam can only partially follow and Natasha is cherrypicking the marshmallows in her Lucky Charms. It’s a good morning; there are no phone calls.

And then Clint gets a notification on his phone and chokes on a bite of French toast before he can explain.

“Bank in Washington’s been taken over by ex-HYDRA,” he says. “They’ve taken hostages, got air support and military-grade funk, and the local police are a little overwhelmed.”

Steve is already up and getting his shield, Natasha following soon after. Bucky drains his coffee, signs ‘suit up’ to Clint and Sam.

“Super-soldiers,” Clint and Sam say simultaneously.

\--

“This is so cool! I feel like I’m teaming up with the Fantastic Four,” Clint yells. Sam’s flying him to the scene; Steve and Natasha are going to try and rescue the hostages so are taking a less conspicuous route. Bucky is already at the site and giving support to the local police.

“Well we are pretty fantastic,” Sam grins, “But none of us can stretch. We’re getting close. I’m going to drop down and we can rendezvous with the reinforcements.”

The scene outside the bank is pandemonium, police, military and HYDRA already in a pretty heated gunfight. Before Clint starts scaling a roof to find his vantage point, Sam gives him an earpiece.

“Puts you in comm with Steve, Nat, Bucky and I,” he says. “In case you need anything.”

Clint nods, puts it in his better ear, and as he does, it starts operating.

“Good to see you Sam,” comes a hoarse voice. “I took out the helicopters for you. Don’t get your fine ass shot down.”

“I love you too, Bucky,” Sam smiles, and launches into the air without much more preamble.

“Jesus, you talk?” Clint exclaims as he starts grappling on the side of the building. “Yeah, and real sweet of you to give me a lift, Wilson.”

“Man, I’m not Iron Man,” Sam says with an audible roll of his eyes. “Been flying you and your arrows over hell’s half acre. That is some serious heavy lifting.”

“Yeah okay,” Clint says. “Where are you, Barnes?”

“At your nine,” Bucky says.

“I can’t see you.”

“You don’t need to see me,” Bucky mutters. “Focus.”

“Yeah,” Clint says, pulling an arrow from his quiver. “Right.”

Working with Natasha and her boyfriends is nice. Relaxing, almost, except this is a horrifying hostage situation. Clint and Bucky incapacitate several ex-HYDRA agents while Sam watches their backs from the sky. Then the comm crackles in his ear.

“Nat and me are coming out with the hostages,” Steve Rogers says. “Cover the entrance for the police. We’re being pursued by hostiles.”

Natasha comes out first with the hostages and Clint realizes that Steve must be hanging behind.

“Steve, you damn idiot,” Sam says. “What are you doing?”

“There are a lot of hostiles,” Steve says. There’s a smile in his voice, and gunfire in the background. “Hostages out?”

“They’re taken care of,” Natasha says. “Should I come back in, Steve?”

“Better not,” Steve says. “Place is wired to blow. Start on evac. I’ll be okay.”

“God damn it, Steve,” Sam says warningly while Natasha starts curtly yelling for everyone to get out of the way. “Do not do this shit again.”

“Last time, Sam. I promise.”

Then the bank’s front collapses on itself. Through the dust, Clint sees Natasha run into the wreckage and Sam dive, hears the latter cursing a blue streak. There’s radio silence from Bucky.

“I got him,” Sam says. “Unconscious and heavy, but I got him.”

“I’m coming down,” Bucky says. “Clint, cover Sam and Natasha.”

“I’ve got the shield, Barton. Just worry about Natasha.”

Helicopters, press and not HYDRA, are circling close. Clint sighs and focuses. The HYDRA operatives that come out of the rubble look worse for wear and the police seem pretty well equipped to handle them. When everyone’s been accounted for, either apprehended or sent to a hospital, Clint gets down from his perch.

Steve is getting up, hand on Sam’s shoulder. Sam looks like he’s going to slug Steve once Steve has recovered from his current brain injury.

“I feel sick,” he says with a groan.

“If you’re going to vomit, please do it on your own star-spangled boots,” Sam says. “What the hell were you thinking, Steve?”

Steve tries a winning smile, which looks fairly nauseated, and Sam’s stern expression melts, only a little though. Clint slings his bow over his shoulder.

“So, does it still feel like teaming up with the Fantastic Four?” Sam asks wryly.

“Even better,” Clint says. “I’m still on this dimension and I haven’t switched bodies with anybody.”

Sam laughs, and Bucky, who is standing by them silently, actually smiles. Steve finally manages to get to his feet, and nearly tips over.

“Yeah watch it, big guy,” Sam says, putting a hand on Steve’s waist. “Let’s get a medic to look at your head.”

“There are reporters,” Steve says with a grimace. “Is Natasha okay?”

“Yeah, she’s…” Clint looks around and realizes that he’s lost sight of Romanov. “Where is she?”

“Natasha?” Steve says into his comm.

“I’m fine!” Natasha yells, startling them all. There’s the audible sound of her drawing a deep breath. “Just get Steve first aid. I’m going home.”

Bucky frowns and looks at Sam, whose jaw has set somewhat. Clint takes out his comm.

“She’s not fine,” he says.

“We figured it out, Barton,” Sam says. “I’m going to get Steve’s head looked at. Bucky, can you…?”

Bucky’s already stalking off, flagging down a jeep filled with soldiers with his organic hand.

“Should I go with him?” Clint asks.

“Sure dude, stay for dinner,” Sam says, and him and Steve start walking over to first aid.

\--

Natasha’s breath is coming in short puffs. She sits down on the couch, and hugs herself. She hears Bucky’s step on the door and looks up. Bucky waves and goes to the kitchen to boil water for tea before coming back to sit with her.

“What happened?” he signs, brow furrowed.

“Reporters are just stupid,” she mumbles. Her hands are shaking too much to sign. “I had to get out. Is Steve okay?”

“He won’t be when I’m done with him,” Bucky signs, and Natasha laughs shakily. “I’ll get cookies.”

Sandwich cookies and tea go a long way to make Natasha feel better. Bucky is a comforting presence during these times. He’s quiet and he lets her talk, or not talk. And today, she talks.

“I was getting the hostages out,” she mumbles. “Making sure everyone got to the paramedics all right. Things were going _well_.”

Bucky nods.

“And then a reporter… I mean, I was working,” Natasha says. “And then this guy comes up to me and he asks me about a mission I did fifteen years ago. And it’s stupid, but I just forgot that none of it’s secret any more and I had to go because I thought I’d been compromised.”

She stares at her tea, feeling ashamed.

“So stupid,” she says quietly, and leans into Bucky, who wraps his warm arm around her gently.

“You’re not stupid,” he murmurs. “It’s hard.”

Natasha manages to smile and sips at her tea while Bucky stays with her. There’s a knock on the door and Bucky gets up to get it, coming back with Clint.

“Hey” he says. “Steve and Sam are on their way. How are you, Nat?”

“I’m feeling better, Clint,” Natasha says.

“I liked cowboying with you guys,” Clint grins. “Good shooting out there, Barnes!”

Bucky smiles and holds up his metal hand for a fistbump. Clint looks like he just woke up on Christmas, and returns the gesture.

Natasha smiles and finishes another cookie. She likes chocolate chip cookies the best out of all other cookies. They’re the only food she would consider her favourite, especially when Steve is making them and lets her have the first one off the baking sheet, still warm and melty.

“We’re back,” Sam says at the door. “But _someone_ has to stay off his feet for a while until his concussion gets better.”

“Sorry everyone,” Steve says, and sits down beside Natasha and Bucky. The side of his head has a big square bandage on it and he has a couple of bruises that show up stark on his fair skin. “That was exceptionally reckless of me.”

Bucky snorts and hits Steve in the arm, gently. Steve rubs his arm with a goofy smile and quietly says sorry again.


End file.
